


Saffron and Spice

by ReaderRose



Series: Unrelated Events From An Unnamed Underfell Timeline [5]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Confusion, EXP and LOVE (Undertale), Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kill or be killed, Loss of Control, Loss of Identity, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Trust, Memory Loss, Mental Instability, Papyrus Has Issues, Papyrus Knows More Than He Lets On, Papyrus-centric, Paranoia, Trauma, Underfell Papyrus, Underfell Sans, Undertale Saves and Resets, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 14:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12390303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReaderRose/pseuds/ReaderRose
Summary: UNDERFELLIt started with aCRACK.(It ended with aCRACK.)Papyrus deals with a kill or be killed world.





	Saffron and Spice

**Author's Note:**

> This is the POV flip of A Cold Day in Snowdin, thus it's directly related to it. It's more indirectly related to the other works in the series, but you don't need to read them to read this. They all stand alone, they're just fragmented parts of the same timeline... sort of.
> 
> The title is pretty weak, even for me. There's a reference to it but you guys won't get that until I actually do the proper story these shorts are a part of.
> 
> Also this is about to over-double the length of this series because it isn't very short (even if it feels like it is to me)

It had felt like a big day, though there was no cause for it. Nothing was scheduled to happen, just morning sentry duty and afternoon patrol. Still, Papyrus woke up feeling odd. Anxious, but also… excited? Perhaps.

He felt like today would be a hard day, but a busy one, and Papyrus liked to keep busy. Duty had been becoming a bit dull. Snowdin had been in much worse shape a year ago, before he joined the Guard! It was good that it was dull! But still, he did miss feeling like he was making a difference instead of just maintaining it.

He made breakfast, same as usual, a portion for himself, a portion for Sans. He added a bit more spice, a little joke with himself. Today seemed like a spicy day! It wasn't a good joke. It was hardly a joke at all! He wouldn't tell it aloud; he had standards. But still, he liked to think little things and do little things to brighten his days, little jokes, or nice things, hidden, but there.

Life in the Underground was hard, but it did no good to dwell on it when he didn't need to. He spent enough time on being the big intimidating Royal Guard. He was allowed to wear a bright saffron apron with frills he recovered from the dump wherever he made breakfast. (It was nigh impossible that Sans would ever be awake early enough to see!) And he was allowed to borrow books from the library about worlds of great knights or happy little animal friends. He was allowed to restock the kitchen and throw some of the horrid greasy junk Sans loved into his bag just to see his face light up at the “mistake.” He was allowed to (anonymously!) donate books he found or confiscated to the library, in the hopes that someone else could brighten their own days with whatever he found, even if it didn't interest him in the slightest.

When you lived in a dark world, you needed to dampen yourself to blend in, but it was important to hold on to who you were underneath your grand disguises! At least, that's what Papyrus thought. It was a balancing act, and he sometimes faltered, but he tried. It was a challenge, but he loved challenges.

So far he was doing well! Mostly…

He and Sans had drifted. Being his older brother's boss was a strain on the old dynamics, one neither had quite adjusted to yet. Sometimes Papyrus had to be all edge, all anger, and he knew Sans was not used to seeing him that way. He'd always wanted him to toughen up but apparently seeing the results of that displeased him. It was annoying, but it was fine.

They would get better! He'd figure out a way to reconnect. Maybe he could find some space junk somewhere to give him, or pay off that tab at the greasehole. (It couldn't be that much!)

For now, though, he needed to go get his big brother up for the day.

 

After hiding away his apron, he banged on Sans's door, screaming about lazybones.

* * *

 

Sans hadn't wanted them to go into work today, but Papyrus never, ever took time off. He knew Sans was planning to stay home, (he knew his brother well), and he would holler and rant about it later for appearance's sake, but it wasn't _really_ a big deal. Sans wasn't really an integral part of the Snowdin Royal Guard operation. The day could proceed without him.

The same could not be said for Papyrus.

Snowdin had been in bad shape before he came. Saving the town had been a mostly bloodless battle, but it was his greatest achievement. The Captain had claimed dust needed to be spilled before the town would change, but he'd proven them wrong! But though things were peaceful enough now, that peace seemed so fragile, and it was founded on order and structure. The people needed to know he was there for them! That each day, he would patrol the same time, the same places. They needed to know that he wouldn't stop just for a mild inconvenience, a chilly draft, a bad feeling. Sans was not the only one whose soul felt something might be wrong, but there was no evidence it was anything but unfounded, and Papyrus would ignore it.

He had to. The town needed him.

He stayed alert, but he marched on.

 

* * *

 

 

It started with a **_CRACK._ **

~~(It ended with a **_CRACK._ ** )~~

 

They’d been ambushed. He could remember that much, though the details were fuzzy. Who? Why? He didn’t know anymore.

All Papyrus could remember clearly was the sickening crack, the way his skull felt as if it had split apart. The dizziness, the way his vision whited out, the way the sound fell out of the world.

They’d been fighting. He’d been struggling. He didn’t want to kill, but holding back was making him too weak. There were too many. They were too strong. He… he’d been doing well, maybe? He wasn’t sure. It was all a blur, until the **_CRACK._ **

 

His vision had whited out. All he heard was ringing and static and all he felt was a throb of his skull, pain receptors screaming at an injury he had no time to heal.

He was confused. Disoriented. Scared. Panicking. Rational mind, rational thought, caution… it all fled him with the crack. It was a wonder he was able to stand. It was a wonder he wasn’t dus—

—

 

A horrible **_CRACK_ ** rang out in the air, but he didn't hear it.

 

He only felt it as it broke across his skull.

 

For a moment, the whole world went blank. His thoughts screamed in a million different directions, but drowned themselves out. The monster couldn't see, couldn't hear, could only feel his skull throbbing in time with his soul, panic overloaded.

He felt a pressure, something pushing his face against something hard but the pain… the pain was too much. He couldn't… he couldn't figure out– but—

 

**_CRACK_ **

Another? What?

_Why?_

No it didn't matter he needed to get up he needed to get up he needed to get up he needed to totoneededto—

 

**_CRACK_ **

heneededtogretbuphnddeedded—

 

**_CRACK_ **

His thoughts jumbled into nothing but a slurring of questions he couldn’t quite form, couldn't quite grasp, and couldn’t quite answer and he felt like he was fading.

 

Oh.

 

Right.

 

This was the part where he dies.

He knew that.

 

 

He’d… done this… be….before… r… igh… t…?

 

He was dusting. He could feel it. Cold.

 

Sad.

 

_Familiar._

 

He didn't get to say goodbye to Sans…

He needed to remember next time. Maybe he would write himself a note!

He tried to laugh. It was just a joke. But he couldn't move his jaw. He couldn't remember how.

Panic that had been there had failed, mind gone to pieces with his skull, but his soul was still alert enough to – to –

To—

Papyrus felt something, sensed something, maybe saw, but he couldn't see, he lacked the… no sockets… but… bright… saffron… small. Move. Sound. Crack. Dusting. D– D—

 

**_CRACK_ **

Papyrus’s vision whited out as a crack broke apart his skull as it collided with stone and all he could think was that he didn’t have a skull anymore because he was supposed to be dead wasn’t he? Hadn’t he—

 

**_CRACK_ **

What? What wa—

 

**_CRACK_ **

Wh—

 

**_CRACK_ **

Panic filled him as his vision went white, as his hearing cut out, as his head ached. He was going to die. He was going to die.

Unless he didn't die. He didn't die. He kept… he kept getting hit. Over over over over over what if it went on forever what if he never dusted what if he just kept getting hit his skull just kept shattering his mind just kept failing how did it keep-? _How?_

_Why?_

_Why wasn't he dying? How did it keep happening!?_

Another crack and his panic died as his hopes did, skull shattering, but—

 

**_CRACK_ **

 

His vision whited out and panic took hold as he suffered a blow to the skull. Wait? Didn't he dust?

What was happening?

 

**_CRACK_ **

 

His vision whited out-

 

**_CRACK_ **

 

His vision whited out–

 

**_CRACK_ **

 

His vision whited out—

 

**_CRACK_ **

 

His—

 

**_CR-CRA–CRK—_ **

 

Again. Again. _Again._ **_Again._ **

 

**_CRACK_ **

 

Papyrus's vision whited out—

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _—but he was_ _ready_ , bone sharpened in his claw, giving himself over to reflex, to instinct, slamming the construct into the paw that held his skull against the infernal rock.

 

Something _screamed_ as the pressure left him but the panic hadn't. It was him or the monster who had done this to him. Who kept doing this to him. Over and over and over and— even though that didn't make sense.

He had no time for sense.

And time made no sense.

His mind, disoriented, damaged, had no capacity for sense.

No sense. No thoughts. Only action, now. No concerns for the future, besides ending the cycle of his head being smashed against a rock and dusting, over and over, without ending, without answers.  

 

He wouldn't dust this time.

 _They_ would dust this time. _They_ would _die_ and _he_ would _live_. He would live he would live he would live he would

 

Something hit him and he flew back, something else piercing his ribcage, aiming for his soul but _he wouldn't let it happen_.

Papyrus was too disoriented to aim, but he could throw bones and so he did, as many as he could, unable to control the damage, unwilling. Let it be strong. Let it be too much. He was hurt and he was dying and he kept dying and dying and dying and it wasn't fair it was someone else's turn and he was going to live this time. He was going to survive _EVEN IF HE HAD TO DESTROY EVERYTHING HERE_ **_HE WAS GOING TO  S U R V I V E._ **

He heard another scream. It matched the one before. He aimed for where he thought it was, and was rewarded with more screams. Louder, louder, and then they stopped all at once as a breeze seemed to blow something into his face, into his eyes, into his being.

 

 

And then, _Papyrus felt wonderful._

 

He felt stronger, now. _Better._

His health restored, somewhat. Still only a drop in the bucket, a bigger drop, a bigger bucket. His vision in his right eye began to return. He could see, for the first time, that there were many monsters here. Some in armor that looked just like his. Some in regular clothing. They were fighting.

This was a rebellion, wasn't it?  A riot? A coup? Something else? He couldn't remember how it started.

It didn't matter, really. All that mattered was ending it.

Papyrus noticed as his vision became clearer the gray soot in the snow in front of him. Oh, that must have been the one who attacked him!

 

Dust now. Only dust.

 

They were gone, but they failed. This time he survived. This time he was still here.

 _And they_ **_weren't._**

 

Papyrus laughed, panic and bliss built up and intermingled and Papyrus was unafraid. Some part of him knew something was wrong, but his mind was too disoriented, his soul was too euphoric, and his body felt too loose and disconnected, even if his skull was still throbbing from where it hit the hard stone surface.

Still laughing, Papyrus attacked. He didn't really care who he hit. How hard. Some part of him wanted to stop, but it was silenced each time by the feeling that filled his soul as more monsters turned to dust.

 

By the end, it was only him.

Papyrus.

Barely.

 

Still laughing.

 

* * *

 

**HE WON!**

**He earned 1347 XP.**

 

**His LOVE increased.**

 

* * *

 

He stood there for a while. Staring at the dust. He… he couldn't really remember how he got there.  He couldn't really process much. His skull was throbbing, his soul felt unsettled, and he knew that he had caused most of this dust to be here.

…

He probably should have been upset. He knew he should have been upset. He wasn't. He'd never killed before. And now he’d killed a lot. He felt different. But… he didn't feel guilty. Only victorious. Only proud.

Some of them had been on his side.

He knew that, now. He didn't know it at the time. Everyone had been his enemy. Everyone had had to go.

 

Now that the fighting was over, he didn't know what to do. What should he do? How long had he been here?

He saw something among the gray and white of the world, something bright and colorful but it… it was gone a moment later. It shook him enough to remind him that he wasn't _meant_ to just be here, standing, staring at nothing, forever. There was more than this. He was more than this. Even if he was having some difficulty remembering.

He tried to remember how he got there, and the best he could recall was that he'd been on duty. Patrol. Right. He needed to continue patrol. It was his job. He had to do his job.

 

* * *

 

 

He staggered back into town, having gotten turned around a few times in search of the path back. He thought he saw something, and it guided him to a familiar setting, and from there his movements became automatic once again. Patrol was completely forgotten as he realized town had transitioned into “night.” He didn't patrol at night, so it wasn't time to patrol.

 

He went home at night.

He was supposed to go home.

He went home.

 

Some small part of him noted that he'd never expected to go home again. He was supposed to die today.

(The rest of him stayed silent, whatever script he was following having ended, with nothing to replace it.)

He'd won. He'd beaten death itself. He'd beaten time itself, fate itself. He was supposed to die. He didn't. He was supposed to dust. He didn't. He was supposed to be killed. He wasn't. He won. He won.

He won.

He wasn't alone. Everyone in town who had seen him had fled. But this one wasn't fleeing. Did they want to fight him, too? Did they want to kill him, too? He dared them. He would win. He would win. He would never lose again. He didn't want to die. So he had to win.  

Those were the only two choices.

Win or die. He knew that now.

Kill or be killed.

It was just a fact. It was just the truth.

 

… It was Sans.

Oh.

_Sans._

…Did Sans want to fight him? Wait… that was… that was… his head was starting to hurt, or maybe his mind was clearing up enough to actually feel it again. He didn't want to fight Sans? Did he? No, no. But then, he didn't want to fight _anyone_ and he had. But… Sans. Sans was different?

Wasn't he…?

 

Sans didn't want to fight him. He knew that. He knew that, didn't he?

He knew that.

 

Sans stared at him, looking almost as confused he was, which was saying something. Wasn't Sans supposed to be on duty today?

Did he know what happened?

…wait. Sans skipped work today. Sans didn't want to go. Sans didn't want him to go. He remembered that, now. Everything was hazy and fuzzy but Sans knew. Sans knew something was going to happen, didn't he?

…Sans knew this was going to happen.

 

Did Sans plan this? Did Sans want to make him die? Was that… what happened? Was this a betrayal? It was a coup, or a revolt? Right?

Was Sans behind it?

 

But… Sans wouldn't do that! But Papyrus wouldn't kill, either, and look at what happened. The rules were broken today.

 

Sans knew he was going to die today.

Sans didn't help. Sans didn't stop it.

Sans let him die. Sans was giving him that look because he didn't die. Sans expected him to die. Sans expected him to be killed.

Sans tricked him. Sans hated him.

 

...no. No no no.  That couldn't be right, could it? Or maybe it could. He didn't know. He still didn't have his senses, but he couldn't… he couldn't act on this. He couldn't make that sort of mistake. He would… he would… he didn't know he couldn't think but he couldn't hurt Sans. He couldn't be wrong about this. He couldn't afford to be wrong about this.

 

He was wrong about everything else. He was wrong about Snowdin being tamed peacefully.

He was wrong about everything he'd ever believed in and _it got him killed._ He _died._ But if he died, how was he alive? It didn't make sense, but nothing did, and he knew it. He knew he died. Again and again until he fought back.

 

But… Sans… he couldn't.

 

But Sans was staring at him. Planning something, he knew it. Studying him. Looking for his weaknesses. Maybe… maybe looking for his injuries? To… To help him? But… what if… what if he wanted to hurt him?

~~(And Sans wasn't saying anything and Sans always had things to say and… and…)~~

He didn't trust him. How could he trust him? He let him die. He didn't want to kill him but he needed to go away.

_“STOP STARING AND GO DO SOMETHING USEFUL.”_

He said things like that to him all the time. It was practiced, a script. He couldn't think well enough to come up with anything else, but he laced it with the threat. Sans needed to get away from him. He was dangerous and he was going to hurt him. He should hurt him. But he didn't want to and it was better if he just went away.

…And it worked.

 

 

 

 

…Now he was alone again.

 

But he didn't feel alone.

He could feel _them_ crawling all over him, his bones and armor covered in _them._

 

He wasn't alone because _they_ were still there. He wouldn't be safe until _they_ were _gone._ Until the dust was _gone._

He needed to be safe.

He needed to be clean.

He needed to wash it all away.

And only then would his mind go back to normal. Only then would he be able to think again, clearly, rationally, controlled.

That's who he was. That's what he was. In control. Always in control. Always. Always.

He just needed to take back control.

And then he would be himself again.

 

He wanted to be himself again.

 

* * *

 

Papyrus won.

He regained control, of both himself and of Snowdin. He learned a lot from his near death experience, though not how it had happened in the first place. Chalk it up to delirium and head trauma, he assumed. Still, much had to change. The old methods of governing the place in Snowdin were clearly ineffective. He needed to be better, and so he was.

He kept a close eye on Sans, trust never really returning though he found no proof of collusion. It made no sense that Sans had predicted this without being a part of it, and how could he trust a supposed brother who left him there to die? He couldn't.

He kept an even closer eye on the scar that had formed where his skull had cracked open. He hadn't done a great job of healing it that night, and by the time he saw someone more qualified, it was a bit too late. In some ways, it would always be a small weakness. An infection there had the potential to be fatal, as well as further damaging his faculties. He was lucky he didn't lose anything vital. His moment of insanity had been rather temporary after all.

But he quite liked the scar, technical weakness cancelled out by the strength it advertised. It made him look tough. It was a symbol. A sign. He won. He didn't die. He carried on.

 

_He won. He won. He won._

He lived.

He won.

 

* * *

 

Dozens of books and saffron aprons and snacks and spices and so many tiny little things sat abandoned.

Collected dust.

Papyrus tried to fight the feeling that he'd forgotten something vital. But it didn't matter, really.

 

He had other things to focus on, now.

 

 


End file.
